


Well Deserved Tenderness

by NaughtyBees



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Arthur Morgan Has Low Self-Esteem, Confessions, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyBees/pseuds/NaughtyBees
Summary: Arthur is in love with Albert. He'd never tell him that though. Nobody could love someone like him... could they?
Relationships: Albert Mason & Arthur Morgan, Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Well Deserved Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> I'll never stop writing Albert/Arthur, they're a hair's breadth from being canon

He was determined this time not to think about it. He'd set his jaw, only half listen to him, and do whatever he needed to. That was the idea, anyway.

It was four minutes of him hanging on his every word before he remembered his plan, but the conversation kept him listening to every detail about bison. About how they're the largest mammals in North America, how they can run at 35mph so watch their tail to tell what mood they're in.  
Arthur interrupted to get back to the matter at hand, trying not to watch Albert crouch over his camera, his eyes fixed on the grazing herd.  
The way he was enraptured by the world, his large eyes scanning every detail of the beasts that Arthur found rather commonplace. It made his heart skip slightly, and he stared away purposefully.

Albert Mason. Even his name made him feel like a lovesick teen. Damn it, keep your head, Arthur. He was an ugly, rugged outlaw. How could someone as smart, as well spoken and well dressed, and as so perfectly _good_ as Albert ever consider looking twice at someone like him? It was stupid to even think about, so Arthur resigned himself to not thinking about it.

Albert knew what he did for a living. He had casually mentioned Arthur's wanted posters not holding his likeness as well as his photograph. Arthur had hated how he'd rushed over his insistence that bounty money meant nothing to him. Like he was afraid. Fuck.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Albert shook him from his thoughts, and he perked up, seeing those beautiful eyes locked on him. "You seem a little distracted. You haven't come down with anything, have you?" The kindness in his voice made the cowboy's stomach turn soupy with affection.

"I'm good." Arthur assured him, grasping for an excuse to get him off his back so he could return to moping. "Just, ah… The camp cook ain't the best. Gives me gripes sometimes."

Albert's face lined with concern. "Oh, come here, dear fellow. I have just the thing, we'll fix you right up." He fretted a little, Arthur watching him rummage through his bag. He supposed after all the times he'd saved Albert’s life, he must have taken it upon himself to make sure Arthur was feeling his best. It was hard to not find it immensely endearing, so Arthur simply knelt down, waiting for Albert to finish muttering and scolding himself for not being organised.  
"Aha!" He handed something to Arthur, a thick liquid, and he drank it down, making a slight face at the taste. "Have some mint tea, too, that will help." Albert walked to their campfire and poured a cup, passing it to Arthur with a smile.

Arthur thanked him, watching as he turned to look at the bison, taking off his hat. His soft hair waved in the warm breeze and he breathed it like he was drinking water after three days without. The afternoon sun on his soft, pale skin almost made him glow. He did glow. Inside and out, he radiated goodness. For a moment, Arthur wondered if he were an angel. That would make Arthur a demon. He was rotten to the core, a heartless killer with delusions of a moral compass. But Albert, oh Albert. Perfection incarnate.

"Are you feeling any better?" Albert asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "You don't need to be here if you don't feel well. I doubt I'll be charged a second time."

Arthur shook his head, standing and offering Albert a hand. "I'm alright. Had worse." When Albert accepted his help, he tried not to get lost in his hand, how soft it was against his rough calluses, and how it fit almost perfectly in his own.

"Examples of this 'worse'? I'm sure a few of your scars have interesting stories, and I'd revel in a tale or two while I wait for that calf to come nearer." Albert leant over his tripod once more. "I don't mean to pry, of course, but I've only sustained papercuts. I can't imagine a real scrape."

Arthur thumbed over the scars on his chin. "Ah, I'm covered in scars. But I got these in a bar fight when I was about 21. Some jackass smashed a bottle in my face." He tapped the shallow one on the side of his nose. "Very narrowly missed a stabbing here. He was goin' for my eye but my friend got him off me thankfully." He then gave his chest a tap. "Got one here, septic bullet wound. Dug it out and cauterised it myself. That was probably the worst."

Almost jumping when he felt a hand on his arm, Arthur looked at Albert with a hard swallow. His face was grave, and he squeezed Arthur's arm gently. "Feel free to call me an idiot and shove me away, but would you permit me to hug you, Mr Morgan?"

Taken aback, Arthur's mouth opened and closed a few times, before he composed himself, trying to set into his gruff demeanour that he was known for. "Alright, if you gotta." He grumbled, trying to brush away any thoughts of holding Albert and never letting go.

Albert wrapped his arms around the larger man, squeezing him tightly, and Arthur gave his back a pat. However, he thought about how Albert clearly thought he needed a hug, and was so ready to give it, so he supposed it wouldn't be too bad to enjoy it. At least a little. He sighed heavily, letting his strong arms drape tenderly around Albert, and he surreptitiously inhaled his smell, trying to commit it to memory.  
"You must think me a soppy little weakling, Mr Morgan. The sort of man who requires an armed escort when he's trying to photograph bunny rabbits."

"Nah, 'course not." He unfurled his arms from Albert, and folded them across his chest. "Yer just a city boy, it ain't a bad thing."

Albert sighed quietly. "I would adore being more like you."

Arthur scoffed. "You don't know me, Mr Mason. I ain't a good person."

"Oh, think I know enough. Just because you're part of the Van der Linde gang, I'm supposed to think you just a murderer? No, no, Mr Morgan. Yes, you're that, I won't deny it, and yes it does bother me." He replaced his hat as he turned back to his camera. "But I have seen you perform countless acts of kindness and selflessness, placing yourself in harm's way with no ask of reward. If I could have an ounce of your bravery and empathy, I would be elated."

Arthur was a little lost for words. The fact that Albert thought that about him, while also knowing what he did, it almost brought tears to his eyes."...You mean that?"

"Of course I do!" Albert turned to look at him again. "Were you in a better situation, I daresay you might be the most moral person I know. You do not delight in killing, that much is clear. I mean, you didn't shoot that coyote that took my bag, you chased the blighter down. Anyone else would've blown him away." His hands twitched and Arthur glanced at them, watching him twist his fingers against his palms, fidgety. "I'd hate you to go your whole life thinking that you're the person you have in your mind's eye. Because you're not. You're positively wonderful, Mr Morgan."

Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks burning as he looked away. "Well, I, uh…"

Then, Albert was close to him. He was holding his shoulders. He was leaning up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, a tender show of the staggering amount of affection he held for the outlaw.  
"Ah, forgive my impetuosity." Albert blushed as he stepped back. "Just a small token for my favourite cowboy."

Arthur smirked slightly as he brushed his fingers over the scorching spot on his cheek, his entire body feeling as though it were electrified. "Your favourite?"

"Naturally." Albert gave a little bow as he turned once more back to his camera. "Oh! Oh, look, the calf!" He grinned as he snapped the photo of the small bison.

"We call 'em red dogs. On account of their fur." Arthur said as he stepped forward, standing just behind Albert. "Fella I know found an orphan one once. Raised it to pull his plough."

Albert took another photo of the calf suckling, a bright grin on his face. "Sounds like something you'd do. Saving some defenceless creature. It seems gallantry comes naturally to you."

"For fuck's sake." Arthur grumbled, and Albert startled, turning to apologise for whatever it is he did wrong. Arthur grabbed his hands and pulled him close, his large arms coiling around him, squeezing him as he buried his face into his neck. The other hug was restrained, but this felt right. Like two jigsaw pieces that fit together so perfectly. He heard Albert's stilted exhale as he relaxed into the embrace, and Arthur nuzzled into his beard, smiling to himself. "You gotta stop being so dang loveable, I can't stop thinking about you. Push me away if you want, gimme a slap, but I just…" He swallowed hard, steeling his nerves. "I really like you."

"Oh, Mr Morgan…" Albert laughed quietly. "How about we talk about this more over a meal in the saloon?"

Arthur pulled away just a little, arms still around Albert's lithe form. "Like…a date?" He hoped he hadn't misread the photographer's invitation. "...It's not a date, is it? You're not asking me out."

"Yes I am, you silly man!" Albert chortled, cupping Arthur's cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over his scruff. "You are lovably dense."

"I get that a lot."

Albert sniggered and gave his cheeks a smush so his lips pouted, then turned back to pack away his camera. "You must work on your self esteem."

Arthur folded his arms as he watched Albert, with nothing but adoration in his eyes. "Hypocrite."

"Yes, yes, I know. But _I_ _am_ a bumbling fool, you know I have no delusions when it comes to that." He picked up his bags, and Arthur reached out a hand to take the heavier one. "Oh, what a gentleman."

Whistling for their horses, Arthur helped pack the bags away on Albert's mare. "You ain't seen me gut a fella like a fish, I ain't a gentleman." He said, mounting his stallion.

"Well, perhaps after the meal is over, we could rent a room and you could show me just how gentle you can be." Albert teased as he shakily got on his own horse, nowhere near as experienced as Arthur when it came to equine skill.

Arthur looked at Albert with wide eyes. "...You're real forward, ain't ya?"

Albert simply laughed as he kicked his mare's flanks, setting her off in the direction of Valentine, and Arthur rolled his eyes, following with the largest smile he'd held for as long as he could remember.


End file.
